


0400 Hours

by Koehler



Series: Hamilton Fics (non-x-reader) [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Fluff, Post-War, Returning Home, it's just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9092896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koehler/pseuds/Koehler
Summary: Alexander has been away from his family for 275 days, and he's happy to finally be home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a modern AU. Also, Philip is a little bit older than he actually was when the war ended… and an only child for this piece. I’m just going to pretend the army works this way, although it doesn’t.

_Alexander’s POV_ **  
**

I heard the quiet alarm sound, not that I was asleep. I jerked up a bit on instinct, not from choice, a result of living on the edge between life and death for 275 days. I remember every one of them. 0400 hours. I had 2 potential hours to sleep, but I knew even before I got here that I wasn’t going to use them. I was going to use them to just hold my wife close to my chest in my own bed. Her breathing felt natural, relaxed, something I had not experienced in a while.

I remember the tears in her eyes when I finally got home. I could have slept on that damn airplane or the car ride home that one of my army buddies gave me, but I didn’t. My journey home took exactly 34 hours and 23 minutes in total. Each second was spent with an anxious flutter in my heart.

She was waiting for me. When I came through the door, she looked ready to collapse. My dirty white shirt had muffled her happy cries as she immediately grasped her arms around me and buried her face against my shoulder, and I hadn’t actually let her go since. I whispered about how much I missed her as to not wake up Philip. It was 0100 hours then, and she stayed up for me.

Looking over at her now, I knew that I had been gone too long. I carefully removed myself from the mattress, slipping my uniform back on and quietly heading downstairs. The decorations of red and gold throughout the house were wonderful. I saw the big green box was set up downstairs, deciding that I would look around for a moment first.

Everything felt different, but the fundamentals of the house were the same. I think I was the one that changed. The newspaper on the counter suddenly felt better than before. The half-folded blanket on the couch didn’t look like a mess. It looked like home.

I walked back to the box, stepping inside and somehow managing to put the top of the box on after I got in. I wouldn’t call it roomy, but I fit in it. I let my mind wander, for the first time in months. **_Almost a year_ ** my thoughts corrected me _**You missed a year of your son growing up**_. I wondered what he looked like now, how he changed. I had spoken to him and seen photographs, but I knew it wasn’t the same.

He knew too. When I spoke to him, he kept asking me if I was coming to his soccer games, still not understanding that I was a world away. That question will always stick with me. I would smile sadly, telling him no, and remind him that Mom would have to cheer extra loud for me. He pretended to sound okay, but I heard the disappointment in his voice every time.

The box was lighter now, and I heard a pitter-patter of feet crossing from one side of the house to the room my wife was in. They were louder than I remember. **_He was 6 now. I missed his birthday._** I heard the distinct excited yell of “Mommy! Get up! We need to open presents!” There was groggy laughter. “But, Philip, it’s only 5:15.”

“We need to go **now**!”

There was laughter and the sound of someone putting on slippers before there was a loud smack from little feet running down the stairs. I heard Philip gasp at the size of the box, and he called up the stairs for his mother to hurry up. I heard him toddle over to look at the tag printed on the box, a white sign with the words “To Philip, From Santa”.

It seemed like he was walking around the box, but it was a bit difficult for me to tell. I wanted to reach out through the box and hug him, just to make sure that he was there, that this was real.  

“Wow, Philip! Look what Santa brought you! Do you want me to help you open it?”

There wasn’t a verbal response, so I imagine he was nodding, curls bouncing up and down as he did so.

The top was lifted off, and a little head of curls peeked its way over the top of the box, big hazel eyes looking down at me. There was a soft “Daddy?” as I stood up taller. I was suddenly tackled in a huge hug as there was a joyful “DADDY!” exclaimed from an ecstatic 6 year old wearing his green army man pajamas. 


End file.
